The Witches' Festival
by C. Sphire
Summary: Beth (aka Beatriz from The Nightshades) decides to take advantage of the annual sale Farengar Secret-Fire has in honor of The Witches' Festival. Mix in some repressed sexual tension and alcohol what could possibly go wrong? (This bit of fluff and ackwardness takes place shortly before Death and Madness.)


**Paring: Farengar Secret-Fire / Pre-Dragonborn**

**This little funny incident takes place between The Nightshades and Death and Madness. Basically I wanted Beth (aka Beatriz) to sow a few wild oats before crossing paths with Cicero.**

**Frostfall 13th 201 4E**

_The 13th of Frostfall, known throughout Tamriel as the Witches' Festival when the forces of sorcery and religion clash. The Mages Guild gets most of the business since weapons and items are evaluated for their mystic potential free of charge and magic spells are one half their usual price. Demonologists, conjurors, lamias, warlocks, and thaumaturgists meet in the wilderness outside of the cities, and the creatures created or summoned there may plague Tamriel for eons. Most wise men choose not to wander this night. In Daggerfall, this is the Summoning Day for Mephala._

_ wiki/Lore:Calendar_

~.~.~

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"Are you sure you don't want to deal with him tomorrow?" Faendal asked as they left Warmaidens. The sun had set about an hour ago and with most shops closing for the day the two friends headed to the Bannered Mare.

Beth felt a small flutter of excitement and shook her head. Her purse was heavy with coin from her share of the loot and burning to be spent.

"Yes, because if I wait to deal with Farengar tomorrow his spell books won't be half off. And you know how stubborn he is on never budging on his prices."

"Is that why you keep sweet talking him?"

"More like bicker," Beth corrected as she scrunched up her nose.

"Still... you both seem to enjoy it," Faendal teased with a wide grin.

"Oh brother, don't. It's not like that. Not like that at all," Beth denied as she idly swung the bloodstained sack she carried. "Plus we can turn in our latest bounty, unless you want to keep this orc's head for another day."

Faendal blanched at the thing and agreed, "No thanks. Better get going before it starts to smell any worse. Say, you wouldn't mind if I get a bite to eat at the inn instead? I'd come along but I'm famished."

"Not at all."

"Great! How about I get us rooms and we can have a drink before turning in?"

"Sounds good but let's at least start you on learning a new spell too when I get back. What about... Oak Flesh? I'll even buy you the book for it while I'm up there."

Although Faendal failed to appear enthusiastic to the idea, he offered a grateful smile. "All right, I'll give it try. Just be careful, sister."

"I always am, brother."

As usual whenever they split up he offered her a hug. Out of respect for Camilla, Beth tried her best to think only platonic thoughts. And at the moment she had an urge to press closer and melt into the mer's strong arms, Beth pushed him back gently. But this time she did not miss how slowly he let her go before he went into the inn with a worried look.

Beth guessed his behavior was due to the assassination attempt from days earlier. For some reason the Dark Brotherhood wanted her dead. And although the two friends may have sent the female Shadowscale to the Void, Beth had no illusions that the Dark Brotherhood would stop after one try. Faendal however, was more optimistic, or at least pretending to be for her benefit. Regardless, Beth made sure to remain within sight of the city guards, and wasted no time making her way up to Dragonsreach as quickly as possible.

After turning in the bandit leader's head to Proventus, she gave a sheepish look in reply to Jarl Balgruuf's stern one. Peeking into Farengar's wing of the keep, she found it odd, that even given the growing late hour he was not behind his tables, fussing with enchantments or making a potion. Instead, he was sitting in the dark, alone and having a drink.

"Ah, so tell me. Do you have the Dragonstone yet, Breton?" He paused to the let the barb sink in, taking a swallow of wine. Having already assumed her answer, his tone was rich with sarcasm. Even with the shadows obscuring most of his face, Beth could tell that his smile was smug. Yet his hazel eyes held little of their usual icy challenge, appearing red-rimmed and slightly glazed as he peered up at her from the shadows of his hood.

"Imperial," She corrected, her voice crisp. "I'm an Imperial. How many times must I remind you of that?"

"If you say so, little dragon. You're just so very short, cute and fiery I thought that surely… ah well, nevermind," Farengar sighed and took a longer drink, emptying his crack glazed goblet.

"Cute! M-me?" Beth pondered quietly to herself as she hugged at one of the pillars. She cautiously watched him get up to pour himself more alto wine.

"Yes. Why, you sound so surprised. How very amusing."

She was trying to think of a suitable reply when he offered her a second goblet, he just filled.

The nickname 'little dragon' was nothing new. He had a slight obsession with all things dragon-related and usually when he used it, it was with a grumble. Any other time it would be followed by not so playful accusations of how he would not be surprised that she could indeed breath fire and how her temper was worse than a trolls'. Beth would then imply his mother was likely a hagraven and that his ego would put even the most arrogant of Thalmor Justicars to shame.

"Well little dragon, care for a drink? Or shall the battle of words begin?" Oddly, the way he said it again came out even softer than ever as his eyes slowly took in her dress-clad form. Stepping a little closer he added, "And may I be so bold as to say, you're looking particularity fetching this evening in green? It puts some color in those steely eyes of yours too."

There were baths in the cellar of the Drunken Huntsman. And as usual after coming back to town, Faendal and her would take advantage of them. But tonight, Beth had felt that her usual lavender-robed armor were too beat up and dirty to put back on or wash. So after her bath, she had opted for leather boots and a dress in a style similar to Ysolda's. The off-the-shoulders neckline and with her skirt slit up to the sides of her knees, Beth felt the garment was a bit immodest but would at least afford her the ability to run easily if needed.

"Thank you, r-really?" Beth managed to inquire as she politely took the drink. When he said nothing she added, "Um so w-why are all of y-your candles out?"

"It's been a long busy day. I've sold a great deal. Although I'm technically no longer a member of the Mage's Guild, a little sale is good for business. But if I have to assess one more enchanted sword, bow or shield I'll..." Farengar sighed again, touched his goblet to hers with a soft clink and smiled tiredly as he toasted, "To the Witch's Festival, my little dragon."

Beth took a sip then worriedly asked, "Ah-are there any spell books left?"

Farengar leaned in and teased softly, "I figured you'd want to take advantage of me as well. So I set aside a few I've noticed you've been eyeing. Come this way," he beckoned her to his tiny office.

"D-do you have any flesh spells?"

"Stone and iron for those with the talent to cast them," Farengar promised as he waved to his bookshelf and offered to take her cup. "Allow me?"

Handing it over Beth cast Candlelight to see. It did not take her long to find and pull out an Oak Flesh volume first and set it aside upon his desk. Farengar noticed, and with a frown he set their glasses down next to it.

"Don't you already know this one?"

"I do. It's for a friend," Beth explained as her fingers brushed over the spines of the other tomes. The Ice Atronach she paused over. But after seeing one in action, no thanks to a hostile sorcerer upon the road, Beth deemed them too large, slow and clumsy to be of much use. She smiled however, when she found a spell book to summon a Storm Atronach instead.

"Ah yes, the Bosmer one? Your near-constant shadow? Where is he now?"

"Faendal? At the inn, why?" Beth held her breath, half listening. At finding the fast healing spell she truly wanted most of all, she released a sigh of relief. Noticing the various rune tomes, Beth next bit down on her lower lip in quick debate. She did not know how often she would use runes but they were only half price. So, with a shrug she added them to the collection she held. It frustrated her that there were no more heal other spell books, but she still turned to Farengar with a grateful smile.

"No reason really," Farengar answered quickly. He licked his lips in debate before adding, "Just surprised he's let you out of his sight for an evening. And since he's not here tapping his foot impatiently waiting, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for another drink. I've got a bottle of Firebrand Wine. I've been meaning to open it and can't think of a better time or person to share it with, so after this bit of business would you care for some? That is-if you think you can tolerate my company for a little longer."

"Hum..." Counting out her coin slowly Beth debated the offer. She worried a little over the thought of Faendal having to wait but then she had never heard of Firebrand Wine, let alone tasted it. Beth also warmed to the idea of finding out just how long she and Farengar could go without arguing.

"I suppose Faendal won't mind if I put off teaching him to cast Oak Flesh for tomorrow," Beth murmured as she handed over most of her gold. "I doubt he'll worry too much. So I would be happy to tolerate you, and I'm always up for giving something new a try."

"Wonderful!" Farengar smiled and drew closer. Giving the tip of her nose a gentle poke he bent to whisper, "Stay right here. I won't be long."

"S-sure." Beth blushed at how soft his voice had become. Admittedly, she always liked the sound of it even when he scolded at Faendal and her each time for not returning with the Dragonstone.

"Good, now best empty your goblet before I get back." He pulled away and finished his before he left to fetch the bottle.

Since the room had only one chair and a desk Beth hopped up and made herself comfortable on the latter. After smoothing the skirts of her green stitched dress she worked on finishing her first drink. As she swallowed it down she smiled at how very cool and refreshing it felt. With a shiver and a small laugh, she gave her booted feet little swings off the edge of his desk as she looked over the storm atronach spell book she just bought. At least until the candlelight spell faded out. Still thirsty, she licked her lips at the last of the alto wine and was about to recast for more light when Farengar returned with a grin.

"Made yourself quite comfortable, I see?"

"I thought perhaps you would want your chair. Where else would you have me sit?" Beth gave a soft laugh as a rather naughty idea suddenly came to mind. To try to dispel it she shook her head a little. She found it odd that with only the little alto wine she had it swam. The incantation written out on the page even wavered. Giving up on reading it for now, Beth closed the book and stacked it with the others. She assumed it had just been too long since she last eaten.

Pouring her another glass his accent thickened as he answered, "Oh I can think of one place. Although, I doubt you'd ever humor me by doing so."

Beth arched her brow as she took her first taste; rather than asking him to elaborate just yet.

The fruity bouquet of Firebrand wine distracted her and the feel of it upon her tongue was pleasant, despite the small burning sensation as she swallowed it down. She could make out easily enough the snowberries and, if she were not mistaken, a touch of fire salts too.

Relaxing for the first time ever around the Court Mage she dared, "Try me."

When his eyes widened, she gave a playful grin and took another deep drink. The wine indeed lived up to its name. Unlike the chilling alto wine, Beth felt warmth slowly and pleasantly spread throughout her body.

"Very well." Farengar had the good sense to at least wait until she swallowed before suggesting playfully, "How about my lap, pet?"

Beth still coughed violently. Somehow he had read her mind, and to her embarrassment she could not stop hacking. "P-pardon m-me!"

"Shall I take that as a no then?" Farengar chuckled as he kindly rubbed her back and instructed, "Best to take another drink. It will help to sooth your throat."

Against her better judgment, Beth drank until the wine in her goblet was gone. Now calm, but feeling quite flushed, she eyed Farengar over the rim. Her eyes meandered up his blue robed frame slowly. Pausing at his rope beltline, she wondered what lay beneath the all-encompassing blue material. As he crossed his arms, shivered and gave them a rub, she tried to put that thought of not so much from her mind. When she finally met his eyes again, their expression was as unreadable as ever. Beth shivered also as she studied what she could see under his hood in the dimly lit room. His lips for once held no sign of guile. They were just full, and perhaps it was the wine getting to her, but she wondered just how soft they were.

"S-so very soft I..."

"I beg your pardon?"

"N-nothing," she denied quickly as she cleared her sore throat.

"Ah well, do you need more?" He held up the bottle.

"S-sure, if you please," Beth dropped her gaze and held out her goblet. After he refreshed it, she took a few more drinks. All before she worked up the courage to ask, "Why ever s-suggest such a thing of me? To-to sit upon y-your lap I mean."

"I would think it should be obvious as to why. I find you rather appealing, despite your delusional need for excessive caution, your hot temperament and the way you procrastinate over the urgent task the Jarl has appointed you."

Beth with a huff immediately snapped back, "I'm not delusional! You said it yourself that barrow is dangerous! And furthermore, you also said that damned stone might not even b-be..." Beth trailed off as she felt Farengar slip a warm hand under the slit of her skirt and gently squeezed at her knee. A pleasant chill oddly spread over her skin from his touch but underneath a heat started to build.

"May I continue to make my desires for you more clear, my little dragon?" he asked as his hands worked to uncross her legs, slide up them and squeeze half way now up her thighs.

"D-desire? B-b-but we argue-constantly and-"

"We do." He slowly as he bent over her he explained, "But let's admit the walls we raise and the ballistas we fire at one another are merely foolish attempts to deny the truth, no?"

He had a point. The arguments always riled her up but Beth did not have the first clue what to do about it. So she looked up at him instead, in wide-eyed disbelief.

Seeing this, Farengar stopped his progression to her hips and stepped back. "Sorry! Am I mistaken? How most inappropriate of me-I must have miscalculated. To speak plainly, I thought given with how much we argue it was your way of perhaps concealing your interest in something more."

"Y-yes, I-I am. Interested-I think so-I mean um..." Beth trailed off as she continued to stare up at him. "Well I d-do so like the sound of your voice. Oh d-dear um.."

Farengar grinned as he watched Beth start to blush and squirm. With his hands coming to rest upon her knees again he pressed, "Truly? I'm flattered. Would you do me a favor and humor me once again?"

"C-certainly. What did you have in mind?"

"Close your eyes." At Beth's hesitation, he tried cajoling her. "It's an easy enough request wouldn't you say? Given how little light there is now."

"Very well, a valid point but what are you getting at?"

The alcohol still radiating a pleasant warmth throughout her body made it easy for her to relax and comply. Not so much when she felt him hike up her skirt a little. Beth trembled as she heard his breath hitch and felt him move to stand between her knees. Farengar then leaned in, tucked her loose hair behind an ear and started to kiss it.

At her shifting nervously he paused to softly ask, "Exciting isn't it? Not knowing what is coming and what to expect." His velvety accented voice caressing her slightly pointed lobe had Beth sucking in one slow breath after another. "The anticipation for something to happen certainly heightens the sensations, no?"

It took awhile before she gave a small timid nod. She made a nervous squeak as he squeezed at her knees and pulled them up to guide her heels to rest upon the edge of his desk. Unsure what to do she leaned back on her hands and tried not to fidget. A restless energy in her grew as he leaned over her and his lips meandered down to her shoulder then back up her neck. Pausing now and then to lick, kiss and suck.

"Do you want more, my little dragon? Will you let me worship you?"

"W-what? What do you mean exactly by w-worship?" Beth giggled a little. She found his wording odd but her nervousness and the chills melted away with a moan. His large palms cupped and rubbed at the rises of her bodice. Her nipples began to ache from the friction of the homespun undershirt rasping against them at his movements. The air in the small room felt warm and thick. Her inability to see, coupled with her head spinning from both the wine, and what to her felt like a lack of oxygen had her trembling at his every touch.

"Just let me show you. Let me touch you. I always endeavor to please such a refined, yet strong lady such as yourself. One of such cunning and wit. And if you don't feel I'm doing an adequate job, you're more than welcome to push me away and punish me, little dragon."

Beth debated whether all the flattery was due to the wine or something more when she felt the tips of his fingers curl along the low neckline of her dress. A firm yank down upon it had her yelping in shock. Her heart hammered away under her rapidly rising and falling- and now exposed- breasts. Farengar gave a groan of appreciation against her collar bones. Beth squeezed her eyes shut tighter as his thumbs started to brush over her bared nipples. Teasing them to aching attention. He paused only to snatch up the handful of pendants she was wearing. With a soft grunt he tossed them out of the way, over her shoulder.

"Are you not going to kiss me?"

"Of course," he reassured moving up, only to press his lips to her chin. He then worked his way along her jaw and down her throat instead.

Beth frowned in confusion and tried to say, "No I meant..." but her complaint fell silent. No longer relevant as Farengar wasted no time in latching his lips about one of her nipples. As he laved it with his tongue, his fingers and thumb provided attention to the other. He twisted it almost to the point of pain while he suckled her even harder.

Beth bit back a cry as her arms shook in trying to hold herself upright. When his mouth moved to wet her other nipple she vaguely realized his hands had also started to wander. Sliding down her rib cage, over the arches of her hips and after tucking under her skirts they slid up her outer thighs. When he reached her smalls he started to tug at them.

At the small sounds of protest she made and nervous wiggles Farengar paused. He returned his lips to her ear and after a small nibble he murmured, "I simply wish to kiss you here..." One of his hands boldly slipped between her legs. His palm felt so very warm as it cupped then rubbed against her still covered sex.

When the the heel of his hand ground against her mound, Beth exhaled on a wavering moan. She gave a shiver, her dampened nipples becoming icy as they dried, while her hips instinctively arched up to his burning touch. The aching need for the thin, and now moist barrier to be removed had her making small little sounds as his fingers started to play with her covered folds.

"I'll take that as a yes, my little dragon," Farengar huskily approved as he started to kiss her ear again. "Now lift that pretty arse of yours up so I can get these off."

Trembling at the order and flushing at his language Beth still did as she was told. A few tugs later and Farengar relieved her of her smalls. Where they went she neither knew nor cared. Her greatest concern was over what he was going to do next.

His breathing grew labored as he yanked her ass to the edge of the table and finished pushing up the front of her skirts to her hips. His breath teased her soft curls only moments before with a happy groan he rained little slow kisses down her belly. His lips were as soft as she had hoped as they moved over to her dampened petals. As his tongue stroked and teased her into opening to him even more, Beth could no longer remain quiet. Soft whimpers escaped as his mouth pressed to her harder.

His fingers spread over her stomach but his thumb plucked at her pebble as it grew ever more swollen. Weak sparks of magicka from his touches had her shaking with small releases and urgent gasps.

The sounds he made had her blushing deeper too. He gave muffled moans between the soft wet sucks but there was more. She heard the rustle of his robes as he shifted between her legs while on his knees. One of his hands had also disappeared and from the slow jerky sporadic movements of one of his shoulders bumping her inner leg she had a theory as to what he was doing with it. The thought of him thrusting into his own squeezing grip as he tasted her had Beth grinning.

Maybe it was the wine which made her savor and crave the need to feel that kind of power over someone or it was just her true nature. Regardless Beth wanted to know exactly when he was doing it so she rested her knee over his flexing shoulder so that she could feel every stroke he gave to himself.

Her smile next faded as her jaw dropped. She gave another whimpering moan as his mouth moved from sucking at her inner folds and opening to start concentrating upon her button of nerves his thumb had previously been tormenting. The sensations were almost too much. Her arms shook harder as her fingernails scratched into his desktop.

When his tingling fingers starting to rub at the low edge of her opening Beth's happy hums became a frantic gasps. Her hips lurched with a mind of their own when she felt Farengar's first finger start to enter her slowly.

He paused only long enough to murmur in approval, "Look at you sooo eager. I do hope you're taking mental notes. It's all about the right amount of control when it comes to this little weak spell."

Beth opened her mouth to argue but his finger started to thrust in and out of her as a weak zap from it's tip had her wall contracting. Trying not to wake everyone in the Cloud District up, she bit down hard on her lower lip. Head lolling back Beth felt Farengar's shoulder moving once more under her knee. Sitting up, she tried to take a peek at what he was doing but had no such luck. Bending and reaching down, Beth settled upon tugging off his hood and cupping the back of Farengar's head. At the feel of something tickling her inner thighs, Beth started to squirm.

"Wha..." she tried to ask and see what was doing it. But Farengar added a second finger and worked faster. The tickling and itching sensation grew but so did Farengar's attentions.

Her clit throbbed under his small licks as she tightened about his dipping and sparking fingers. Her body grew taut and started to tremble. Beth gasped louder for air and cried out breathily, "A-almost... a-al-AH! Yes! D-don't s-stop-oh GODS!"

Beth's vision went white as a cold burning sensation exploded from her center. Dimly she registered Farengar's moans and could easily guess he found his bliss as well, if his shoulder, which shuddered under her knee, was any indication. She gave a gasping giggle at the mess he was probably making under the table. But the aftershocks and the warm waves sliding over her next had her moaning again as he pulled his deft and now slick fingers free. Replacing them with his tongue and tormenting her still. More moments passed before he started to calm as he sucked in a deep satisfied breath through his nose.

At the heat fading from her center, the itching sensation to her inner thighs returned with a vengeance now and even started to burn. Looking down, she realized the cause. It had her slapping a hand over her mouth to not cry out in horror.

Farengar Secret-Fire indeed lived up to his name. The now burning skin of her inner thighs had been rubbed raw by the blackest, biggest and bushiest muttonchops she had ever seen.

_How! Ewww... How could I have possibly missed those? That stupid-stupid hood! That's how! _

Beth thought as she gave a small whine. It made Farengar pull back only far enough to tease, "Oh what's the matter little dragon? Do you already wish for more?"

Keeping her hand over her mouth she shook her head violently and worked up the sense to sit up. Aside from his poor choice in facial hair, she really had no other complaints. So she kept the one perfectly fixable problem to herself for now and plotted his follicles' demise with no mercy and a very sharp razor for later.

"Hope I've not made you too sore," he grinned as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His free hand caressing her raw skin. "Think of this as just a little something to remember me by."

She was just about to swat his hands away since they stung so much when a woman in the other room called out, "Farengar? Are you here?"

The two of them froze in panic at being caught in their respective and compromising positions, but Farengar recovered first. Tucking himself away and after yanking Beth's bodice up and her skirts down, he helped her to stand.

Quickly packing Beth's purchases up in her pack, Farengar muttered, "Divines help me. Does that woman ever give up? It's one meaningless task to bug me with after-"

"Oh Farengar, I've brought you a little dinner..."

"Oh no! Is t-that Arcadia?" Beth quietly squeaked only to have Farengar clap a hand over her mouth.

In a hushed tone he confirmed, "Yes! Now stay put and allow me to distract her-an easy enough task-while you slip out unnoticed when the time is right."

"Unnoticed? Like Oblivion I-"

"Shhh!" He muffled her outrage once more. "And you most certainly will! I assure you it's for the best. Forgive me, my little dragon but I'm reasonably tired and growing cranky. The two of you need to leave as I have need to go to my bed and I stress, alone."

Just then Arcadia started to knock on Farengar's bedroom door and inquired, "Are you sleeping?"

Before she could test the handle, Farengar released Beth and charged out of his office. "No, and if I was the question would only serve to wake me. Here I am, and what do you want at this hour, my friend?"

"Oh there you are," Arcadia cooed back, ignoring his curtness. Beth, after putting on her loaded pack, risked a peek and saw just how close she was getting to Farengar. With a big smile the older Imperial women got to business. "I was hoping with the dinner I brought we could share that bottle of alto wine I gave you for getting me those ice salts."

"Unfortunately my fair lady I have already drunk it," Farengar explained as he gently drew Arcadia attentions away from his office's entrance.

Beth made her move to go but at what he said next made her freeze in her tracks and sober up a little more.

"I thank you for it still as it was surprisingly refreshing and went down rather cool. I never thought to add ice salts to a wine but then the Firebrand I had next does contain another relevant variety as well."

_Frost salts? That errand… Gods, she didn't-oh dear! The love potion? Sweet Dibilla's tits! It was in the fucking alto wine!_

Beth was certain of this fact as she leaned back against the pillar between them and tried not to hyperventilate over how much her thighs were now on fire. On top of how she had absolutely no idea where exactly her smalls were and the man responsible for both those problems was now being pawed at by the woman who unintentionally drugged them both.

At least it was not a true love potion. The effects lasted for a few hours at the most. Or so Arcadia quickly explained when Beth asked weeks ago. Instead the potion merely weakened reservations and amplified an attraction if already present. A truth serum some would even call it and clearly poor Arcadia just wanted to find out if Farengar had any secrets besides the poor decision in his choice of facial hair.

"Oh all of it? How long ago was that? How do you feel? Not too tipsy I hope," Arcadia drew closer and placed a hand over Farengar's chest.

Farengar looked at her unamused but nor did he back away. Instead he permitted her to hug him as he gave Beth a pointed glare and jerked his head towards Dragonsreach's front doors.

"I'm feeling well enough Arcadia, why?"

"Oh no reason. So you drank all of the wine?" She pulled back only enough to look up at him.

"Most of it. What are you getting at? Wait... Arcadia, did you put something in-"

Arcadia gave up on any more questions and settled for action. She pounced by slapping hand to each of Farengar's bushy cheeks and as she reeled him in she demanded, "Oh Oblivion! Farengar if you care for me or not at least just forget about dragons for five seconds and kiss me just once! And I won't ever bother you again!"

"What? You-"

The look of pure surprise on his face would have reduced Beth to tearful giggles if she were not so equally in shock. Farengar to his credit tried to wriggle free but Arcadia had ensnared him good.

_Or perhaps her fingers are caught in those damned muttonchops. I really and truly cannot tell._

Beth squinted at the two of them with a grimace for only a few seconds before thinking now would be a superb opportunity to escape unnoticed. She had just reached the throne room, pressed her back just around the corner and let out a sigh of relief when Arcadia came up for air with a laugh.

"Hmmm someone already seems to have had their supper. Is that venison I taste?"

To not screech in outrage and correct the woman, Beth clenched her teeth and ran for the doors.

"Um.. yes. We need to speak more on this tomorrow. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to turn in."

"But how about a little dessert first?"

"What? Arcadia, what in Oblivion has gotten into you?"

Beth made it down the stairs before Arcadia could give an answer. She felt a little bad for the two for various reasons but for now all Beth wanted to do was escape the sheer bizarreness of what just happened.

The chilly night air outside did little to help. It may have soothed some of the burning but the new draft from the lack of her smalls had her stopping to shift her skirts with a blush every few steps.

Upon entering the Bannered Mare and spotting Faendal at their usual table near the door, Beth gave a sigh of relief. Without a word she gingerly eased into a chair next to him, plucked up an unopened bottle of honey mead waiting for her and proceeded to guzzle it down.

"That bad of an argument, I take it?"

Only after half the bottle's contents were gone did she pause to grumble, "O-oh you have n-no idea."

"Want to talk about it?"

Taking an intense interest at the shelf above his head Beth shook her head. "N-no."

"Are you sure?"

"I said no, did I not?"

"Very well, if you insist."

"I most certainly do."

She listened to his fingers drum on the table as she continued to take a few more slower drinks. Starting to calm down, she managed to give her dear friend a small smile.

"So how was dinner? What did you have?"

Grinning back Faendal cheerfully declared, "My favorite actually. The venison stew Saadia made tasted divine. I'm certain she got the meat from... Beth is something wrong?"

"Oh fine-well! S-so y-your f-favorite huh?"

"Yes," he answered slowly. Cocking his head to the side he added, "Are you sure you're well? You look rather flushed to me."

Getting up and ahold of herself, Beth smoothed her skirts. She then collected her room key off the table, and as she was about to go, took pause. After eyeing Faendal's very smoothly shaved face, Beth mumbled to herself, "What a pity. For the both of us, I suppose."

Faendal opened his mouth but already Beth started for her room, not wanting to linger before he could think of anything to say. A Breton in black robes with blood shot eyes met hers along the way. He gave a wink along with a somehow knowing chuckle.

With the door to her room locked and after a short burst of restoration to ease the burning, Beth crawled into bed. Pulling the hides over her head, she closed her eyes tight and tried to sleep. But the sensations of what happened washed over her again. Most of them had been pleasant; except for one thing.

_Damn you Farengar Secret-Muttonchops! Damn you!_


End file.
